


Monkey (None of Your) Business

by 10MonthDay (AwwKeyboardNo)



Series: It Could Have Been Then (HA! Episode Remixes) [3]
Category: Hey Arnold!
Genre: Episode Remix, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, emphasis on the angst, of Monkey Business, seriously Helga thinks she's going to die so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-09 17:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11674071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwwKeyboardNo/pseuds/10MonthDay
Summary: What if Phoebe had been just a few moments later?





	1. Part 1

She was going to die. 

Helga had come to peace with that fact. It made her wretchedly sad, but she knew better than to fight fate. She felt horrible, though, to leave Phoebe and Arnold behind. That, more than anything else, was why she had called over her classmates. Sure, she kind of hoped that they would miss her as well, but it was mainly for the benefit of her best friend and the boy she loved. 

Phoebe, she knew, would be genuinely devastated. As much as Helga’s self esteem told her otherwise, Phoebe took their friendship very seriously. She had always been a shoulder Helga could cry on (though that didn’t happen very often). She was so much more patient and giving than Helga had ever deserved, and if there  _ was  _ an afterlife, she knew she’d miss Phoebe more than the rest of her family-- _ Phoebe  _ was her family, though Helga couldn’t bring herself to tell Phoebe that. 

She had a feeling Phoebe knew though. 

Arnold though…well, she knew he would be sad she was gone. He was too much of a good person not to, and, she wanted to believe, her friend. The thing was…she hadn’t really given him much of a reason to actually miss her once she was gone. She had been horrible to him for close to six years, with barely any reprieve into trying to be nice to him. Now, with her death drawing so very near, she wanted to do, something,  _ anything _ , to show him she cared. So that he might miss her, or at least think of her, once she was gone. 

To some certain extent, she hoped the same of the rest of her class. She had ended up giving a few of her things to a couple of them. Some part of her hoped they would recognize the significance of the items. 

To Harold, she had actually given him back his own yo-yo. She had taken it from him in a fit of rage in first grade. She had still held onto some resentment to him for being the catalyst of her becoming a bully, and his yo-yo-ing had been particularly aggravating that day, so she’d taken it, feeling no guilt for the action. 

Now though, she thought it was rather pointless to hold onto her rage for the simple thoughtless teasing of a little kid. What was the point in taking that to the grave with her? 

To Nadine, she had given her tuba to the girl. She and Helga had actually bonded last year (outside of school, of course), due to Helga’s dad signing up for her to take music lessons. Helga had chosen the tuba because she’d hoped it would annoy Bob into letting her quit--it was bulky, loud, and ostentatious. Nadine had ended up in the same class as her, however, and somehow Helga hadn’t snapped at her all too much. Granted, Helga didn’t really yell at the girl too often anyway, being that the other girl didn’t really do anything that  _ made  _ Helga want to yell at her. Still, the point stood. Nadine had stopped coming to practice only a few weeks before Helga was allowed to quit by her dad (her theory had proved correct--he  _ had  _ gotten annoyed with the thing). Not long after, Helga overheard Nadine telling Rhonda the  _ reason _ she was no longer in music class: Her tuba had been stolen while she was on the bus.

At the time she’d shrugged it off--it wasn’t  _ Helga _ ’s problem. But, Nadine had seemed to genuinely like playing the instrument, so why not let the girl have an instrument that would have just collected dust otherwise (whether or not Helga  _ was  _ actually dying)?

She and Gerald’s conversation was just a little different than the rest. Their relationship was a rather contemptuous one. He was the best friend of the boy she bullied daily. And, some part of her had the slightest bit of resentment at  _ him  _ being Arnold’s first and closest friend. It was unfair of her, but Helga had never been one for fair (as fair had never been one for her either). However, Helga had never really hated Gerald, and by the time he left her room, chattering teeth in hand, he knew it. And he didn’t hate her either. 

She was strangely pleased about that. 

She probably had the longest conversation with Stinky. She couldn’t even find it in her to be surprised about that. Stinky was a good kid. 

And, well, you never really forget your first boyfriend. 

(Regardless of whether or not you were using said boyfriend to make someone else jealous.)

“I never apologized by that, by the way,” she mumbled, searching his face. 

Stinky beamed at her. He was cheerful, probably because she hadn’t told him the reason she was doing this. Didn’t know that Helga would be dead within the day. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it Helga,” he said. “It was fun while it lasted. And you looked right pretty in that dress ‘fore the bees came.”

She blinked, caught between surprise and flattery. “Thank…you?”

The first time someone told her she’s pretty, and she was on her deathbed. There was still a warm feeling in her chest, though, and she couldn’t help but smile at him. “You weren’t a bad boyfriend Stinko. You’re gonna make someone really happy someday.”

He looked immensely happy at this comment. And even happier as Helga handed him the thing she was giving him. It was a paddle board. 

“You’d talked about yours being broken, back then. I thought you might like mine.”

Before Helga could process it, Stinky reached over and gave her a quick hug. “That’s really swell of you Helga.”

Helga coughed, slightly flustered. “Yeah, yeah. Just, send in Rhonda….”

“Okie-dokie. See ya on Monday!”

And with that cheerful farewell, Stinky was gone, leaving Helga feeling melancholy, knowing he  _ wouldn’t  _ see her, come Monday.

Rhonda was….

Well, Rhonda was just as oblivious about Helga’s reasons for calling the girl to her house as the rest of their friends. Their talk had been short and stilted. Because, in truth, it was a little hard for her to think of Rhonda as a _ ‘friend’ _ , per say. Their interacts were always rather cold, unless they had bonded over a common goal--usually an enemy. So, honestly, the only thing that Helga knew about Rhonda was her love of fashion. She didn’t have much on that front that she could give away. But she had dresses that Olga had given her. The only other thing she had that could be considered ‘fashion’ was her outfit she’d worn to Chez Paris--and, she  _ couldn’t  _ give up that, for obvious reasons. 

Rhonda reacted as one would to a gift that they didn’t like: an awkward thanks and as quick of an exit as possible. 

Helga didn’t mind. It was nice to have an uncomplicated talk--especially since the next would be anything but. 

Phoebe. Oh, it was so hard seeing Phoebe’s sweet innocent face, somewhat concerned, but having no idea what was truly going on. And Helga couldn’t  _ bear  _ to tell her the truth. She didn’t think she could stand seeing Phoebe cry. If  _ she  _ cried, then Helga would probably cry too, and she needed to hold onto her strength until she was finished. 

Phoebe peered at the books Helga had given her. Helga thought she might like them well enough. Though the girl was more into science than the romantics and poetry Helga liked, they would at least be a reminder…

“Helga, I don’t understand. Why are you giving away all your things?”

It was hard to look at her best friend at the inquiry. She managed to flick her eyes towards the girl for a brief moment as she spoke. “Don’t ask,” she pleaded weakly. “Just…promise me you’ll stay as innocent and carefree as you are now?”

“Are you moving? Is that what this is all about?” Phoebe guessed, and Helga didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry at the question. 

There was so much more that Helga wanted to say to Phoebe. She wanted to tell her to grow up to be a famous scientist. She wanted to tell her to get together with Gerald and have a fabulous life with him. She wanted to tell Phoebe how much their friendship had meant to her over the years, how she loved the girl like a sister. 

She didn’t have the time for it though. Instead, she just slowly shook her head at Phoebe question. “No….no that isn’t it. There isn’t much time. Just….” She felt herself choke up a little, tears burning in her throat, but she managed to keep speaking. “Just take my books and go. Send in the next person…” 

Then, she remembered to bring out the library book that had proved so helpful in realizing what was wrong with her. She handed it off her friend with the request that she return it in Helga’s stead. 

“Maybe it’ll help some other poor kid in the future, even if it’s…” She was really fighting back tears at that point. “....too late for me.” As Phoebe left, Helga couldn’t help one more goodbye. “Farewell friend.”

She knew who came next. She knew what she would have to say, what she  _ needed _ to say. And, whether or not she was ready to tell the truth, it was her last chance.

Arnold’s curiously apprehensive face almost broke her hold over her tears in an instant. She managed to hold them back, though. “Thank you for coming Arnold,” she said, her smile sad but sincere. His eyebrows raised. “Please have a seat.”

Arnold sat, patiently waiting for Helga to speak. She so loved his patience, which he’d always used with her--though she hardly deserved such a kindness. 

“I’m not going to be here much longer,” she forced out, around a sudden tightness in her chest. 

He blinked, and she could tell he’d come to the same, wrong, conclusion that Phoebe had. She wasn’t going to correct him. She didn’t dare.

Because either he would be upset or he wouldn’t. And both options would break Helga’s poor bruised heart. 

“And so Arnold, now that I’m about to g-go.” She couldn’t disguise the tremble in her voice. She hoped he couldn’t tell. “I suppose, I might as well tell you.”

Arnold looked at her guilelessly. “Tell me what?”

She looks down. “All these past years, while I’ve berated you, ‘n called you names, like Football Head, ‘n hairboy, ‘n Yutz, ‘n paste-for-brains--”

Arnold gave her a flat, unimpressed look. “Helga, what’s your point?”

“My point is that…” She managed to look up at him. He’s listening intently. He’s always been a wonderful listener. “I really  _ don’t  _ hate ya, Arnold…” She huffed out something like a laugh. “In fact, quite the contrary…” She tried to breathe around the sudden pounding in her heart. It felt like it was trying to beat it’s way out of her chest. Helga gulped. “In the pit of my heart…in the depths of my soul…I truly love…you.” 

Huh, she had almost expected an interruption before she got to the end. The last few times she’d tried to confess, she’d been stopped. She almost wished she’d been stopped this time too. 

She hadn’t chanced a look at Arnold’s face. The silence in the room was deafening. 

“I’m…I’m confused.”

She sighed and finally looked up at him. His face was beet red, and it’s the first time Helga had ever seen him blush (it was adorable). His eyebrows were up near his hairline in his shock. 

Helga was too tired and sad to be annoyed at his denseness. In fact, she was very slightly amused--though it was warring with her still there grief at having to leave life behind. She still managed a little laugh. “Bet you never saw that one coming, huh Arnoldo?” She sighed and leaned back. “Here’s another whammy. I’ve been in--I’ve loved you for going on six years now.”

“Six?” His voice is a squeak. “But we’re  _ nine _ .”

“And I’ve liked you since pre-k, big deal.”

“But how--then why--?”

The universe seemed to decide to give Arnold a break, because at that moment, Phoebe burst into the room, shouting,

“Helga, wait!” Phoebe was beaming. “I know what’s going on, and you’ve got everything wrong!”

Helga blinked. “What?”

“You don’t  _ have  _ monkeynucleosis.” She sat on Helga’s bed, still smiling happily. “Helga, contact with a monkey isn’t really dangerous. The most you could possibly get is minor skin irritation. The rest is all in your mind.”

Helga looked at her arm, elation and utter dread suddenly warring in her stomach. As Phoebe had said, the red mark was gone. She hadn’t even noticed when it’d stopped itching. Helga managed to give her friend a wavery smile, hands clasped. “Y-you mean I’m  _ not  _ going to expire?”

“No, of course not! The whole idea is simply ridiculous!”

Helga laughed nervously, trying to stop the beginning of panic building in her throat. Phoebe noticed her look and her face fell, happiness giving way to empathy. 

“I was too late, wasn’t I?”

Helga managed to speak in hitches and starts in her breath. “Y-yeah…by about twelve…o-or thirteen seconds…probably.” The tears she had been wanting to spill for most of the day were just about to burst out of her. 

She told him. 

She hadn’t  _ actually  _ needed to tell him. 

Phoebe put her hand on Helga’s arm. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Helga shook her head. “It’s…It’s fine Phoebs. I’m the idiot who thought it’d be a good idea to confess on my deathbed.”

“You’re not an idiot, Helga,” Phoebe told her sternly. Her grip tightened. “Do you need me to stay?” She glanced behind her shoulder at Arnold. The boy’s face had been growing in understanding the whole time the two girls had been speaking. Helga wasn’t sure she liked the look on his face. 

He looked a little mad. 

Helga shook her head though. Her hands began wringing nervously. “No, just get everyone else out of my house, yeah? They can keep the stuff.” She snorted at herself. “Might just throw myself off the roof of this place afterwards, so.”

Phoebe paused in the act of standing, turning to give Helga a stern, unhappy look. “Don’t joke.”

Helga chuckled unhappily. “Yes,  _ mom _ .” She was trying, unsuccessfully to stop moving her hands. She didn’t look as Phoebe left, knowing she’d have to look past Arnold to do so.

“The only reason you told me the truth is because you thought you were going to  _ die _ ?”

Yup, he was angry. 

Helga snarled as she faced him finally. She couldn’t help it. “ _ Yeah _ , because I had planned to take that secret to my  _ grave _ .” Her face softened into sadness again and she looked away from him. “But I t-told you, because…I wanted to make sure you’d miss me…remember me. Or at least take pity on a dying girl.”

There was a warm hand on Helga’s arm and her head snapped up, finding her eyes caught with Arnold’s lovely green ones. They looked sad. “You…you didn’t think I would miss you?”

She tried to look away but he caught her face. Helga’s skin burned at the contact. She settled for flicking her eyes down, so she wouldn’t have to stare into the eyes of the boy she so desperately loved. “I was pretty sure that the only person who would genuinely miss me, was Phoebe.”

“That’s  _ crap _ ,” Arnold blurted, and Helga was so shocked at his language (for  _ him _ , anyhow) that she looked back up into his eyes again. They were burning, like green fire. “Our friends would miss you.  _ I  _ would miss you. A lot. You’re my  _ friend _ , Helga!”

“I’m your  _ bully _ ,” she said back, and suddenly, she was desperate to get away from his burning hands and burning eyes. She scrambled away from him to sit against her headboard. “I’ve been pulling on your ‘pigtails’ (metaphorically speaking) since day  _ one _ .  _ I  _ wouldn’t miss me!”

“I  _ would  _ miss you,” he said again, firm, and Helga sighed and decided to let him have his way.

“Sure, okay.” She pulled up her legs to put her chin on her knees, comforter still pulled around her. She was still right on the verge of crying. “C-can you leave now? Please?”

Arnold’s brow furrowed. “But Helga, you just told me you--l--l--” He couldn’t seem to get the word out. “Helga, I just want to understand you.”

A few tears managed to slip past her. She did her best to hide them in her blanket before she looked at him again. “Please, I just want to forget I told you. You weren’t ever meant to find out. I--I, just.  _ Please,  _ go.” 

“But  _ why _ ? Why would it be  _ so  _ awful to tell me you….” Again, Arnold paused on the word. “ _ Like-like  _ me?”

Helga scowled involuntarily. “Let’s get one thing straight,  _ bucko,  _ I do  _ not  _ ‘like-like’ you.”

He groaned in frustration. “But you  _ just said you did _ !”

“No, you  _ yutz _ , I told you I  _ love  _ you. And there’s a  _ big  _ difference. ‘Like-liking’ someone--” Helga very deliberately did air quotes for the term, “--means you’re infatuated with them, it’s short term--you just like them for their looks, or because they were nice to you once, or you make believe that they’re perfect--or  _ whatever _ .” She fidgeted. “Love….Love takes time. Love is knowing the other person’s imperfections and caring about them in spite and  _ because  _ of those things. Love is stability.” She was having trouble going on--she’d gotten too into it, and now she was feeling embarrassed. She looked up at him through eyelashes still framing her unshed tears. He’d gone pink again and he was staring intently on her. She took a deep breath and finished speaking. “And if I haven’t gotten over it after six years, I sincerely doubt it’s anything as arbitrary as a simple crush.”

Arnold sat back. He put a hand to his head. “This is a lot to take in,” he said finally. 

Helga shrugged unhappily. “You were the one who pushed.” She gave him an uncomfortable and sad look. “Hey, why don’t you just forget it, okay? Just go home to your zany yet lovable boarding house family, go on some boyhood adventure this weekend, and, come Monday, we’ll just pretend I kept my dumb mouth shu--”

“No.” Arnold got up from the chair. “Why are you so determined to pretend this never happen, Helga?!”

“ _ Because you’re never going to feel the same way _ ,” she shouted back, losing her temper and her frail hold on her tears. They burst out of her in rivulets, even as she spoke, making her voice come out watery and uneven. “You  _ barely  _ think of me as a friend and I didn’t want to lose what little care for me you had because I had the unfortunate luck to fall in love with the one boy who could n-never ever love me back.” And then she was simply too overwhelmed to speak and unable to hold back on her weeping. The days events, along with the emotionally exhausting conversation came crashing down on her, hard. 

The yelling must have brought Phoebe running, because she was suddenly at Helga’s bedroom door again. “Helga, all the others are gone, I--” She cut herself off as she took in her sobbing frame, and the stunned boy on her bedside. Her eyes softened with sadness and she brushed past Arnold with ease. 

She didn’t look behind her as she sat beside Helga’s head, hesitating for a moment before bringing her hand down to stroke the blonde’s hair. Helga leaned into the touch almost desperately, clutching at Phoebe’s sleeves. She spoke, her tone firm. “Arnold, thank you for coming, but I think it’s best that you leave.”

“Phoebe, I--”

Phoebe shook her head, cutting him off. “Please. I think you’ve spoken to Helga enough for today. She’s been through enough as it is.” Then she looked over her shoulder, her eyes softened. “Perhaps, by Monday, things will have calmed down. But until then, please be patient.” And suddenly she had a steely glare. “And do not mention what Helga told you to anyone.”

Arnold shoulder’s sagged a little. “I won’t tell anyone about Helga,” he swore quietly. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I pushed so hard. I’ll see you guys at school.”  
  
And with a wave and one last worried look at Helga’s shaking frame, he was gone. 

It took several long minutes for Helga to calm down enough to speak. Her voice was croaky and worn out. “I don’t deserve such a good friend like you Phoebs.” She looked at the smaller girl with bloodshot eyes and tried for a smile. 

Phoebe sighed. “Though I disagree with you on that, the fact of the matter is, we  _ are  _ friends and I wouldn’t give you up.”

“You either,” was Helga’s mumbled, but serious, reply. She sniffled. “I’m scared of what’s going to happen.”

“Things will all work out,” Phoebe promised, “you’ll see.”


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helga wasn't on the bus, come Monday.

Helga wasn’t on the bus, come Monday. Arnold couldn’t help his intense disappointment. He had been hoping to catch her before class, so he could speak to her without prying ears. He wanted to apologize to her for pushing her, and, maybe, see if she was more ready to talk about what she’d said.

Arnold had thought of nothing else for the whole weekend.

Arnold caught the attention of Phoebe, who was sitting alone. She looked worried but her eyes narrowed as he waved her over. She plopped down beside him.

Gerald, sitting on Arnold’s other side, leaned to look at Phoebe, confusion and worry mixing on his face. “Is--Is Pataki--is Helga okay?”

Phoebe immediately shot Arnold a sharp look. “You didn't say--?”

Arnold held up his hands. “No, you know I wouldn't.”

Gerald looked between them. “It's just, last week she said she was _dying_ , but judging by how you're acting--”

“How did you know she thought she was going to die?”

Gerald raised an eyebrow. “Because she _told_ me?” He said it like it should be obvious.

Something like indignation rose up in Arnold. It wasn’t _Gerald_ who Helga had a crush on! And yet, she hadn’t deigned to tell him until she was forced to.

His offense must have shown on his face, because Phoebe put a hand on his shoulder. “She didn’t tell me straight out either, and we might as well be sisters. I don’t think she could bear to.”

Mollified, Arnold sat back.

Gerald was raising an eyebrow again. “She didn’t tell you?”

Phoebe looked angry at herself. “Nevermind that. Helga is fine and that’s all the matters.”

The boy didn’t argue. The three sat the rest of the busride in silence. Arnold and Phoebe both swallowing down worry for Helga.

Where was she?

* * *

Helga was already in class when the rest of the students arrived. Phoebe and Arnold were the last into the room, because they had spent the time looking for the blond girl out on the playground and the surrounding areas. In retrospect, it would have been better to check the classroom first.

Helga was speaking quietly to Mr. Simmons when the duo got there. The man was looking rather delighted, but he also gave the girl a comforting pat on the girl’s shoulder when she began to make her way to her desk.

Both Arnold and Phoebe made to speak with the girl, but the bell rang before they had the chance. She was a row away from both of them, and was slumped in her seat, avoiding their eyes. Arnold and Phoebe would both have to wait until lunch to speak with her.

Throughout the morning they both sent worried looks towards their friend, who appeared to be paying more attention to Mr. Simmons than usual. She didn’t throw a single spitball, nor interrupt the teacher to make snide comments. It was as though she were doing her best to avoid any attention.

It worked, for the most part--aside from, of course, Arnold and Phoebe.

But it was during English, the last subject before lunch, that things took a different turn. Every day, Mr. Simmons would read one of the English assignments aloud. This time though, there were two pieces of paper in his hands.

“I’m reading aloud two very special poems today, one by  anonymous, and the other by our very own, Helga G. Pataki.”

Both Arnold and Phoebe shot the girl curious looks. She slouched further in her seat, refusing to look at either of them. The tips of her ears had gone pink.

The rest of the class was looking towards her with interest. It was obvious that they were curious about what their resident bully would have to say. Poetry was not the typical fare of the angry girl, as far as they were aware.

“First, by anonymous, it’s called _My Fear:_

 _You are the very air that I am breathing_   
_But everyday, when I see you, my heart begins bleeding_   
_When you’re around, I want to cry and I want to laugh and_   
_I want to scream. I want to try to make you understand_   
_Just being near you makes stars explode inside my mind_   
_And twists my lungs up in knots, every time that you are kind._   
  
_But it hurts me so very badly, to be near you,_   
_When you try to understand me, peer under my stone skin to see through_   
_To whatever it is you believe lies beneath, what treasure there is to be found._   
_But once I showed it to you: my bleeding, bruised heart, you couldn’t make a sound_   
_And that, dearest, is why I have taken back the words, ‘til the morn when you can hear them_   
_On that day, should it ever come, when you’ll be happy and I’ll be too, I’ll be glad to tell the world, “I love him!”_   
  
_I fear that day should never come, I fear my doubt_   
_I fear it like I feared the death that never came about._   
_I should hope, beyond hoping, that this will be like then_   
_That I shall tell you and you will hold me and I shan’t be mournful again._   
_And after, we’ll say it and say it and say it some more:_ _  
“I love you, I love you too, forever and ever and evermore.””_

It took everything in Arnold’s being not to turn around and stare hard at the blond girl whom he was _certain_ was the author.

“Next, I’m especially glad to read this poem by Helga. I’ve never shared her work before, but she’s a very talented--”

“--just get on with it Simmons,” Helga called out. It was obvious to Arnold that she was trying not to look flustered. She was nervous and was stealing anxious looks toward--not Arnold--but Phoebe.

The teacher simply beamed at her and began to read. “This doesn’t have a title:

 _You are my candle in the darkness_  
 _My shoulder to lean on when things get grim_  
 _My first and only friend, but also my very best_  
 _If I had the pick of the world, I’d still have you over them._  
 _Even if the love of my life asked me to (though he wouldn’t)_  
 _I would never abandon you to be by yourself and alone_  
 _I dare the world to find a better pair than us--though they couldn’t_  
 _It is the two of us, the perfect duo, and nothing better shall be shown._  
_For you and I were meant to be the other’s partner in crime.  
And I will love you as my family for all the rest of time.”_

Phoebe had teared up about halfway through the words. Helga wasn’t looking at her, clearly nervous about whatever she would think of her words. She needn’t have, of course. The moment the bell rang and the rest of the class began trickling out, Phoebe lept to her feet and engulfed the still seated Helga in a big hug.

After a long moment of surprise, Helga hugged her back tightly.

Arnold decided to wait to ask the girl about his own poem. The two clearly deserved some time to speak as sisters. Arnold caught Phoebe’s eye as he left the room, and smiled at her grateful look.

There would be time to talk.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering why Gerald's gift scene was so small, it's because there's a fic on fanfic net that has taken over as my headcanon on Gerald and Helga's interaction in Monkey Business and now I can't think of anything else in its place. The fic is called Gerald Speaks and it's by Pyrus Japonica, it's an oldie but its super good.


End file.
